In the Wake
by Wiccagirl24
Summary: In the Wake of Hurricane Katrina, Abby returns to her childhood home to find that everything has changed. Over the months to come she will come to learn about recovery, and find out that friends and family are really the same thing. post season 2, spoil
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with the show. Abby's journey, though, I do claim. At least part of it.

Genre: Like life, a mix of drama and humor. More angst to start with, more humor later.

A/N 1: I went to Louisiana a couple weeks ago, and among other things toured the Ninth Ward of New Orleans. As is my usual reaction I put everything down on paper, in the words of a fictional character. I find the emotions easier to deal with that way.

A thousand thanks to NYCIby for the beta'ing and suggestions. You are so wonderful, sweetie. And a thanks to Brightillusions, for lending me Jason.

IIIIIIIIIIIIII

It was an excruciatingly slow day. Hours of paperwork followed by a meeting with the director had Gibbs ready to climb the walls. Escaping from the office, Gibbs walked down the street to the cafe. He ordered a coffee for himself and a Caf-Pow for Abby, figuring that he would surprise her. It was an excuse, really, to go visit her. He had been doing that a lot lately. Bringing her drinks, checking on results when he knew that she hadn't had a chance to run the required tests. Sometimes he didn't bother to make an excuse, just walked into the lab and stood in the middle of the room, watching her.

When he returned from the coffee shop, the lab was silent, and at first he thought it was empty. It wasn't until he walked into the office that he found Abby. Her back was to him, and she was digging through the drawer of her desk as if looking for something.

"Hey Abbs, I brought you a..." His words died on his lips when she turned her head to face him. Her eyes were red and there were drops of mascara-dyed tears running down her cheeks.

"I have to go home. I need to call the airport, but I can't find the number. I swear I had it here." She turned from him and continued pawing through the drawer. Gibbs set down the drinks on the closest surface. Gently, he pulled at Abby and turned her around.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb.

"My brother just called. I have to go home." As she spoke she signed. Hoping to comfort her, Gibbs did the same.

"I thought everything was alright. Your brother called to let you know that he and your parents were safe, didn't he?" It had been a harrowing couple of weeks, since hurricane Katrina had struck land. Everyone had been tense, but for Abby, whose family lived in the city, the anxiety had been so bad that she had stopped

drinking Caf-Pows! Her system just couldn't take the extra energy.

It had been almost four days after the storm first hit before she had been able to reach her family and find out that they had all made it through the storm safely. Four days in which the lab was quieter than it had ever been. No music played and Abby only spoke when direct questions were asked. Gibbs had a TV brought into the lab, and it was always tuned to CNN with the volume on mute. The whole team had made frequent excuses to visit the lab, keeping close watch over her. Ducky had been the one with her when the call had come.

"Everyone's okay," Abby signed so quickly that her hands were a blur. "But the house... my parent's home... the home I grew up in..." She couldn't say it out loud. The words wouldn't come, but her hands moved of their own volition. i Destroyed. /i

"Oh Abby." He pulled her to his chest, his shoulder muffling her cry. It was the first time in over three months that he had seen so much as a hint of tears in her eyes; the past May when they had lost Kate.

"Hey boss, the director is looking for you. She said..." Whatever the director said was forgotten when Tony heard Abby's sobs. "Abby?

Gibbs shook his head. "Call the airport, DiNozzo. Get a ticket on the earliest flight to New Orleans."

"For Abby, of course," Tony stated. He had known it was only a matter of time before Abby would need to make the pilgrimage back home. "It'll be waiting at the counter by the time you get to the airport."

"Come on, Abbs, I'll take you home so you can pack," Gibbs said when Tony left. On their way out of the room Abby grabbed Bert the Hippo off the shelf and clasped him to her chest.

II

"No go on the ticket," Tony said reluctantly as Gibbs and Abby walked into the squad room. "The closest I can get is Texas, and that's no help. There are no flights going anywhere near the gulf coast area."

Abby didn't say anything, just looked at Gibbs with wide, sad eyes.

"I'll take care of it." Gibbs had the phone in his hand and was dialing numbers before he'd even sat down. Tony walked over to Abby and squeezed her shoulder.

"Sorry Abbs."

"It's not your fault, Tony. You tried." She allowed herself to lean against him, taking comfort from his strength.

"Hopefully Gibbs will have better luck," Tony said.

"It's not about luck, DiNozzo." Gibbs said as he hung up the phone and looked at Abby. "You leave in two hours. That doesn't give us much time, so we have to go now."

"How'd you manage that?" Tony wanted to know.

"Someone owed me a favor."

II

It only took Abby ten minutes to throw what she needed into a duffle bag once they'd reached her home. She was almost at the door when she turned and ran back to her bedroom.

"We have to hurry if you are going to catch the flight, Abbs."

"I'm ready," Abby said as she returned to the room. She was carrying a thick blue album, labeled i Photos. /i "For my mom," she explained. "I don't know if she was able to save any of hers."

Gibbs drove in his usual style, and it only took twenty minutes to reach their destination. Gibbs insisted on carrying Abby's suitcase across the tarmac, and if he thought it was funny to see her carrying a giant stuffed animal onto a Navy helicopter he didn't say anything.

"Call me when you get there, so I know you arrived," Gibbs ordered softly as he tucked her bag into the storage space and made sure she was buckled into her seat.

"I'll be fine, Gibbs. I've flown thousand's of times." She was trying to be her normal light, confident self, but the mask was thin and Gibbs could see through it.

"Call anyway." Gibbs kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Anytime you need to talk, I'm around, okay?"

Abby nodded, and reluctantly watched him leave. He stopped and spoke briefly with the pilot, and although she couldn't hear them she had a good idea of what was being said. He was making sure that someone would watch over her. When the door closed she looked out the window and saw that Gibbs standing on the tarmac, watching her. She gave him a half hearted wave, not stopping until the helicopter lifted off the ground and he disappeared from view.

i To be continued /i

A/N 2: I am attempting NaNo this year, and wasn't planning on posting any fic during the month of November. This story wouldn't let me go. I have written enough that I will be posting every four of five days during the month.

If anyone has any questions, about this fic or the gulf coast region feel free to ask.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Once again I owe much to my beta lj user"nyciby" . You're the best, sweetie.

II

Except for the Navy pilot, the other passengers on the helicopter were all Marines, headed down to Louisiana to lend their assistance. Abby worried at first that she had taken someone's seat, but they laughed and reassured her that all of them had fit in.

"Besides, ma'am," the corpsmen across from her had commented, "you're so little it wouldn't have made a difference.

"Abby," she insisted. "Please, call me Abby."

"No offense, Miss Abby, but your appearance isn't quite regulation. You're not in the service." The youngest member of the group was a Private with the name Singer stitched above his pocket.

"Not exactly." Abby smiled, glad that she wasn't alone on this flight. The last thing she needed was time to brood. "I work for NCIS."

"Are you going into New Orleans for work, Abby?" another Marine asked.

"No," Abby shook her head. She tried to imagine what Tony would say if he knew someone thought she was a field agent, or what Gibbs would do if she joked about wanting to be one. "I'm a lab tech, and almost never go out in the field. I grew up in the city, and my parents and brother are still there."

"I hope they made it through the storm alright."

"They did, but I don't know if I'll believe it until I see them for myself."

"We'll get you there as quick as we can," the pilot's voice came in over the headphones. Abby thanked him and settled into her seat, spending the rest of the flight being entertained by the Marines, who seemed intent on amusing her.

II

It was dark outside when they landed. Everyone insisted on helping Abby off the helicopter. She wished she'd had a camera to snap a picture of the young serviceman who asked for the honor of carrying Bert.

Abby worried about how she would get from the makeshift Navy base to the hotel where her family had been staying for the last few weeks. Gibbs, however, had taken care of that arrangement too. A petty officer was waiting for her in a jeep, and drove her into the city. Most of the street lights were down, and none of them had electricity. Very little could be seen outside the range of the headbeams, but every once in a while they would illuminate a building, and the force of the storm would hit her. Empty shells with broken windows and missing roofs seemed to be all that remained.

"Thank you," Abby said as she grabbed her duffle bag out of the back seat. She waved her driver off when he asked if she needed help carrying the bag into the hotel lobby. Jason, her brother, had a friend who owned the hotel, and had found room for the Sciuto family among the many displaced citizens of the north shore.

Abby leaned against the outside brick wall of the hotel. The street was eerily quiet, with few cars driving on the street. She had always thought of this city as being alive, with a rhythm that pulsed through it in the same way that blood flowed through humans. With music and lights and dancing she had considered New Orleans to be a mirror of her own personality. This was not her city. She tried to blink them back, but a film of tears covered her eyes. She was standing there shivering in the cool night air when her phone rang. She was going to ignore it until she noticed that she had twelve missed calls, all from the same number.

"It's about time Abby," Gibbs said in lieu of a greeting. "You had one more hour to call before I had the local LEO's looking for you."

Abby held the phone close to her ear, grateful for his familiar voice. She didn't realize that she hadn't responded until she heard the worried tone in his voice when he repeated her name.

"Sorry," she said as she fumbled through around in her purse in search of a tissue. "I was anxious to get to the city, and forgot to call."

"Have you talked to your brother again?" Gibbs asked, even though he already knew the answer. He had called Jason less then an hour ago.

"I figured I would just show up." In truth she hadn't even thought of pausing long enough to make the call. Weeks of pushing down the worry about her family had overwhelmed her, and all she had wanted to do was get in the car and go, so that she could get to them as soon as humanly possible.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice low.

"It's hard," she admitted. She wouldn't have had anyone else asked her the same question. "All these years doing what I do, and none of it compares to what I've seen here in the space of a few hours."

"Is there anything you need?" he asked.

"Are you busy? Can you talk to me for a few minutes?" Talking to Gibbs comforted her.

"I have time," he said as he looked around the bustling squad room. "How about if I tell you the ten different ways Tony's tried to screw up our case today?"

Abby laughed when she heard Tony's indignant reply muffled by the phone.

"How about you tell me all about the fun blood and fiber evidence I'm missing out on instead?" she asked.

II

After ten minutes on the phone Abby was feeling better. Gibbs had filled her in on their current case, letting her lose herself for a few minutes in the details of work. He had passed the phone on to McGee, who didn't get in much more then 'hello' before Tony had snatched the receiver from him. It didn't take sixty seconds before he had her laughing at the oddities of the latest witness he had interviewed.

Abby closed her cell phone after saying goodbye to everyone. Entering the hotel lobby she found that the space was taken up by cots, with only narrow aisles leading to the elevators. On reaching the third floor she walked down the hallway, careful not to knock into any of the additional cots that were lined up against the wall. The people laying on the makeshift beds didn't even look up as she walked past.

She knocked on the door to room 308, and it had barely swung open before she found herself enveloped in a giant hug.

"Mom," she said, even though she knew she wouldn't be heard. "I'm so glad you are okay."

When her mother released her, Abby's father gave her a kiss, and ran his thumb over her cheek in the affectionate sign for i my girl. /i Abby pressed her face against his shoulder and breathed in the familiar scent of Old Spice and spearmint.

"Where's Jason?" she asked, falling into the familiar habit of speaking with both her voice and hands.

i 'He went to go get us something to eat' /i her mother replied.

i 'What are you doing here?' /i her father wanted to know. i 'You should be at work.' /i

"I needed to see with my own eyes that you were alright."

Her father frowned slightly, but her mother nodded understandingly. Ever since she was a little girl Abby had needed to see things with her own eyes to know that they were true. Even before she had known what experiments were she had tested her surroundings repeatedly.

II

An hour later Abby was seated on one of the beds, facing her parents. She had been able to get them to talk a little bit about the past few weeks, but not at all about the storm. Her mother had changed the subject everytime she had brought it up, and after a couple of rebuffs she had given in and turned to amusing them with stories of work Her father was shaking his head over a story she was telling them about evidence for an old case, and her mother was peppering their conversation with inquires about her coworkers.

i 'How is that young man McGee?' /i she wanted to know.

"He's fine. It's been a long summer, and hard on the guys since it's just the three of them now, but other then that everything's good." McGee had been one of the few men she had told her parents about, and she hadn't realized until too late that her mother's hopes had been raised. When she had come home for vacation last winter she had found her mother knitting a baby bootie, and in a flurry of signs Abby had disabused her of that idea. She and McGee were having fun. There was no wedding in their future, and certainly no babies. Gloria had held onto the dream until Abby had emailed that they had broken up. She had a new guy now, but she wasn't about to tell her mother about Mikel.

i 'That boss of yours isn't working you too hard, is he?' /i her dad questioned.

"Never," Abby shook her head. It was only a little lie. Gibbs expected a lot of her, but no more then she demanded from herself.

"Getting the third degree already?" Jason questioned as he walked into the room, carrying a oversized paper bag and a two liter bottle of Mountain Dew which he handed directly to Abby. "Sorry, no Caf-Pows! to be found."

"Jason!" Abby set the bottle on the floor and hugged her brother. When she stepped back she shook her finger at him. "You've talked to Gibbs, haven't you?"

"Guilty as charged," her brother agreed as he set down the bag on the dresser. He pulled four giant burritos out of the bag and passed them around. "You're lucky I did, otherwise you'd be going to bed without any supper little girl."

"No I wouldn't," Abby stuck out her tongue. "I would have stolen your food."

Jason laughed, and threw a wadded up napkin at her. He handed out the rest of the napkins in a more traditional matter. Dinner, as usual, was a silent meal. With both hands required to eat there was no way for the elder Sciutos to communicate. From a young age Abby and Jason had felt that it was rude to carry on conversation without their parents, so aside from a few necessary remarks they didn't speak either.

After dinner it was time for bed. The room contained two beds. Jason insisted that Abby take the second one. Abby pushed him onto the bed and flashed him Gibbs' favorite sign. She would be the one sleeping on the floor. He started to argue, but Abby ignored him and rolled out a sleeping bag, stealing the other pillow from the bed. Without even bothering to undress she signed goodnight to her parents and lay down, burying her head under the pillow.

i To be continued /i


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey sis." Jason slid into the chair across from Abby, a coffee cup in his hand. The coffee shop in the lobby of the hotel was full, but the only sounds to be heard were of people eating. Abby felt as if she was sitting in on an episode of the Twilight Zone.

"You're up early." Abby picked at the sprinkles on her donut. She had bought it more out of habit then anything, and had no appetite.

"I heard you leave the room a little while ago, and figured this was where you would come. Since mom and dad are still asleep I thought you and I could go see the house."

The house. The home that she had grown up in, now in ruins. After driving past so many houses the day before she had a good idea of what it would look like, and the idea of seeing her own made her want to cry. She wasn't ready yet, but then she probably never would be.

"When did you want to leave?" she asked.

"Whenever you are ready."

"We can go now." Wrapping her donut up in a napkin she carried it to a trashcan and threw it away. She took her coffee with her, though, as she and her brother left the cafe.

II

"The day before yesterday was the first time we could get in to see the house," Jason told her as they drove out of the French Quarter and through a maze of streets. So many streets were blocked that it was taking them much longer then usual.

"Did mom and dad go with you?"

"Dad did. Mom said she wasn't ready yet, and we didn't want to push her. It's been hardest on her, I think. When we finally received word that it was safe to enter the neighborhood and survey the damage, she just shook her head and told us to go." Jason pursed his lips at the memory of his mother, sitting on the hotel bed and shaking her head in denial.

"Was she able to save anything?" Their parents had lived in the same home for more then thirty years. She couldn't fathom all of that history being lost.

"Whatever she could fit into the car before they evacuated. Her silverware, the family Bible, a couple of photo albums, the quilt that Nana made her when she got married. She took a box out of the closet, and I think that it was all the report cards and art projects from when we were little. Dad saved his Swiss army knife collection and his fishing pole." Abby remembered seeing the cardboard boxes in the corner of the hotel room when she had been there earlier. She was glad that they had saved a few things, but grieved over all that was gone.

They had reached the east New Orleans suburbs by the time Jason finished answering her question. Looking around her, Abby wasn't able to speak. The darkness that had surrounded her the night before no longer protected her from seeing the devastation around her. In the harsh light of day the full force of the hurricane hit her.

Weeks of news reports and newspapers had not come close to preparing her for seeing the destruction of the neighborhood she had once called home. It was like they were driving into a war zone in some far away country. Where there had once been homes there were now just piles of sodden and broken wood. Furniture lay along the sides of the roads in a macabre version of a play devoid of actors. Buildings were missing roofs, windows, walls, or all three. The sidewalk was covered in mud and debris. At one point Jason had to drive up on the pavement to get around a tree that was laying in the middle of the street.

From the end of the street, the house almost looked normal. It was made of wood siding, and though the paint was peeling and there were shingles missing from the roof the structure was mostly intact. There was trash in the yard, and Abby was reminded of the Halloween when she was a freshman in high school and their yard had been attacked by a group of teenagers. It had looked bad, with eggs and toilet paper everywhere. From the end of the street it looked much like it had back then.

When Jason pulled up to the curb and parked the car she could see that the damage was much worse. None of the windows had any glass in them. There were entire sections of shingles missing from the roof. The front door was missing, a sodden mattress stuffed in the open gap. When she stepped onto the front lawn she sunk inches into the soaked sod, and felt something brush against her ankle, and looked down to find a hand embroidered pillow. The rose pattern was familiar- it had sat in the corner of her mother's couch for as long as she could remember. As a child, when she had been home sick she had curled up under a blanket and slept on that pillow. With a burst of anger she kicked the pillow and watched as it hit the porch railing and fell to the ground. Jason, standing on the sidewalk behind her, understood.

Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, Abby crossed the yard. She didn't allow herself to pause when she reached the front porch, but squeezed past the mattress that blocked her way and entered the house.

The first thing that hit her as she stood in the middle of the room was the smell. She had spent half her life dealing with odors that most people couldn't tolerate; noxious gasses, decomposing bodies, evidence covered in blood, gray matter or human waste. None of it compared to the putrid smells that now assaulted her. Only by breathing through her mouth - and probably inhaling toxic matter while doing so- was she able to keep from vomiting up the little food she had eaten for breakfast. She rubbed at her arms, as if by doing so she could keep the odor from clinging to her skin and seeping into her pores.

"Where do we start?" she asked when she felt her brother join her in the moldering space that had once been home.

II

They spent the next two days with shovels and buckets, emptying out the house. Garbage service was non-existent, and would be for quite some time, so they designated the far corner of the yard a trash heap. They worked in tandem, one person filling the bucket, the other taking it out to be dumped, and then they switched. At lunchtime both days they went back to the hotel to shower, have lunch with their parents, and get away from the smell.

Abby tried not to think too hard about what she put into the buckets. Sometimes, though, she recognized the picture on the cover of a book that had been treasured as a child or a broken remnant of a nick-knack her mother had kept on a shelf. There had been a few pleasant surprises. A brass doorstop in the shape of a cat was just where it always had been. One living-room lamp was in the corner of a bedroom, the stained glass shade miraculously unbroken. Far and few between, those were the little things that made the cleaning a little more bearable.

On Sunday evening, Abby said goodbye to her family. She had already been away from DC for four days, and until she could arrange for someone to come and cover her at the lab, she needed to be at work. Jason promised to look after their parents, and Abby swore that she would return as soon as possible.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with the show. Abby's journey, though, I do claim. At least part of it.

A/N: It needs to be pointed out that the timeline for this story is radically shortend, both to fit closer to the canon of the show and for the flow of the story. Nothing in real life habbened this fast.

Nyciby is the sweetest girl and bestest beta. I owe her a thousand hugs.

II

She arrived at the Navy yard half an hour earlier then usual on Monday morning, hoping that she could sneak into her lab without anyone's notice. She made it as far as the security check in the main lobby. Ducky, it seemed, was also arriving early for the day.

"Abby! I didn't expect you back so soon. After Gibbs told us what happened, I thought for sure you would be gone for at least a week." He waited at the other end of the security clearance area, greeting her with a hug when she passed through the metal detector.

"There wasn't much more I could do at the moment." Accepting the basket that Ben, the security guard, handed her, Abby refastened her dog collar and bracelets, pausing for a moment to cough.

"You were missed, my dear," Ducky said as they walked together in the direction of the elevator.

"Thanks for saying that, Duck."

"I mean it, Abigail. Jethro, in particular, has been less then his usually charming self since you've been gone."

"You sure know how to make a girl feel needed," Abby teased. Covering her mouth, she coughed again. Ducky frowned.

"I don't like the sound of that."

"It's just a cough. I'm not sick. Wanna feel my forehead? It's not warm." Abby mockingly tested her own temperature with a hand held dramatically to her forehead.

"Yes, but how long have you had the cough? I don't recall you coughing when you left."

"Since yesterday, I guess. I wasn't really paying attention." She'd had much more important things to worry about than a minor inconvenience like a cough.

"I'd like you to come down to autopsy with me, so I can listen more carefully to your breathing." Hand skipping over the elevator button to the lab, Ducky only pressed the one for autopsy.

"You don't need to worry about me, Duckman." She understood, though, that he would worry whether she wanted him to or not, and decided the best way to put his mind at ease was to do what he asked. She followed him into the room when the elevator doors opened and sat on one of the autopsy tables, kicking her legs while she waited.

"That's cold, Ducky," Abby shivered when Ducky placed the stethoscope against her skin.

"Sorry. Not used to patients with functioning nerve endings." He rubbed the flat circle against the arm of his shirt to warm it up. "Now, take a deep breath," he ordered. She took one deep breath, but the second was interrupted by a cough.

"How is your head?" he asked as he laid the stethoscope down on the table.

"Still on top of my shoulders," Abby quipped. When Ducky raised an eyebrow she shrugged. "A little achy, but nothing a couple of aspirin won't cure."

"I believe that you have what people are calling 'The Katrina Cough,'" Ducky said after he looked at her throat and nose. "Your body is simply reacting to all the molds, spores, dust, and other particles you have been breathing in. The shear number of biological elements in the air are too many for the cilia that line your sinuses and lungs to filter, and as a result your immune system is reacting. You didn't wear any sort of mask when you were down there, did you?"

Abby remembered the hours spent in her parent's house, and the smell that seemed to linger even after every shower. She shook her head.

"I didn't think so. I'm writing you a prescription." He had to dig through three drawers in his desk before finding the required pad of paper. In his line of work he didn't write very many prescriptions. If memory served, the last one had been for McGee and his poison ivy rash. "The antihistamine is to clear up your breathing, and the antibiotic is a preventative measure in case you picked up a bacterial infection. Next time I expect you to take the proper precautions."

"Thank you," she said as she accepted the slip of paper and wrapped her arms around the man. Next time. He understood without asking that she would be going back, and soon.

"Duck, I saw your Morgan in the parking lot. I'm hoping that means you-" Gibbs lost his train of thought when he realized that the doctor was not alone. "Abbs, what are you doing here?"

"Good to see you too!" she teased as she tried to stuff the prescription in her pocket before he could see it.

"You know that's not what I meant." Frown lines formed as he made the connection between the pink paper and the medical instruments setting on the metal table. "Duck?" he asked, picking up the stethoscope.

"Nothing to worry about, Jethro. I was just being my usual over cautious self."

"So what did you came down here to ask Ducky about?" Abby asked in an attempt to redirect the conversation. "Do we have a case?"

"Yeah, we do. A dead Marine. You back?" he asked.

"I am. You need me?" Abby hopped off the table.

"More then you could know. Evidence is in the lab with the pathetic excuse of a lab tech human resources sent us."

"I'm sure he wasn't that bad, Gibbs. After all, not everyone can be a genius like yours truly." She'd have to see what she could do about finding a better replacement before she returned to Louisiana.

"No one's quite like you, Abbs. Come on." Gibbs was almost out of the room by the time Abby had thanked Ducky. She ran to catch up with him.

"So what's the case?" she asked as they rode the elevator up the single level.

"How was it?" Gibbs flipped the switch for the emergency stop, freezing the elevator between floors.

"Bestest vacation I've ever been on," Abby replied sarcastically with a false smile.

"Abbs." His hand rested lightly in her forearm.

"Later, okay Gibbs? Right now I want to forget about it for a little while."

"I can understand that." He nodded, and let the elevator continue on its trip. "How long until you go back?"

"I'm not sure. A couple of weeks maybe?" As much as she wished she could be there for her parents, there wasn't anything she could do for them at the moment. In a few weeks, though, the house would be gutted and dry enough to start working on. That's when they would need her.

"We'll figure it out." They walked side by side into the lab. There was a pile of evidence on the table, and Gibbs left Abby to submerse herself in her work. He'd give her a few hours before coming back to exchange a Caf-Pow! for some answers.

_To be continued_


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'm so sorry about the lateness of this. It's been sitting beta'd on my hard drive for weeks, but my head has been other places and I spaced on it. **nyciby** is the bestest beta and I love her to bits. I owe her a thousand hugs. A thousand hugs too, for all of my readers and double that to those of you who have left me such kind reviews.

II

It was almost time to go home anyone but Ducky visited her in the lab. A dead body, with wounds eerily similar to those of a Lance Corporal they had investigated the previous week, had been found at the edge of a city park. Gibbs, Tony, and McGee had been kept busy at the crime scene all day, as Abby went over the evidence that Ducky had brought to the lab for her. She'd been peering into her microscope, looking for anything that shouldn't be in a drop of blood, when the tell tale rattle of ice floating in a cup informed her that she wasn't alone.

"Thanks Tony." She took a long sip of energy before setting the cup on the table and giving the man a hug. "That was just what I needed."

"No prob, Abbs." Tony grinned at her, and tugged at a black pigtail. "Are you about ready to get out of here? We're going out to dinner."

"Thanks, but I have a couple more tests to run," she replied, returning to the microscope. "Besides, I can't imagine Gibbs is going to let you go home anytime soon."

"Au contraire, my Mistress of the Dark. Gibbs is the on who sent me down here to deliver the message. You have fifteen minutes to finish up whatever you are doing, and then we are all going to Chuck's."

II

It was closer to thirty minutes before they left, because Abby insisted that there were a couple of tests that couldn't wait until morning. Gibbs had ended up coming down to the lab himself and looping his arm through hers, walking her out. When they arrived at the restaurant a table was waiting for them. No mean feat, as Chuck's was crowded and people were lining up to get in, but Gibbs had made a call.

They all ordered steaks, in varying shades of doneness. Tony and Gibbs both cut their meat to reveal barely cooked centers, while Abby and Ducky with their detailed knowledge of science both insisted on well done. McGee's was somewhere in the middle. For most of the meal heavy topics were avoided. Everyone seemed to have a joke to tell or a funny story to relay. Not until the second bottle of wine was brought to the table did McGee ask a question about Abby's trip. She'd only had two glasses of the Burgundy, but it was enough of a cushion. She told the group about water logged teddy bears and houses without roofs. She didn't tell them about throwing up because of the smell or the brokenness of her mother as she'd sat on the edge of a hotel room bed with her head bowed.

Ducky was the first to leave; he needed to check on his mother. McGee and Tony leave together, because both have had too much wine to safely drive home, and they lived close enough that sharing a cab was a frugal idea. Alone now in the booth Gibbs opened another bottle of wine. Their fourth, Abby thought, but she wasn't quite sure.

"Trying to get me drunk?" she asked, knowing that she is already halfway there.

"Do you want to be drunk?" he fired back as he tipped the bottle into her glass.

"Not usually. I hate the whole out of controlness that it leads to. That's why I stick to the caffeine. The heart may race, but I never loose awareness of my surroundings." She waited until he had finished pouring his own drink before picking up the delicate stem wear of hers and downing half the contents. "I don't think I want to be aware tonight."

"Tell me about it," he insisted. He let her refuse once, but not this time. She needs to talk, and know that someone else is listening.

Abby peered into the wine glass, studying the mired reflection as if it was a crystal ball with answers to reveal. After taking a sip she set the glass down on the table.

"When I was ten, I painted my bedroom..."

II

The restaurant closed at eleven, and although Abby knew of a club within walking distance, Gibbs insisted on the need to go home. He called a cab, and gave the driver his address. He'd feel better knowing that she wasn't alone tonight, and while she only has one bed and a coffin, which he refused to sleep in, he had a guest bedroom with a queen-sized bed in it.

Not trusting his balance enough to attempt carrying her, he shook her awake when the cab pulled up in front of his house. Handing the driver a twenty and waving away the offer of change, he lead Abby up to the front door, his hand on her back. Returning to the guest room after retrieving a t-shirt to act as substitute pajamas he found her already asleep again. Curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed, he saw no point in disturbing her. It took a minute to figure out how her shoes unfastened, but once he did he pulled them off and slid the sheets from under her. After kissing her forehead he turned off the light. Before going to bed himself he took a bottle of aspirin out of the medicine cabinet and set it, along with a clean glass, next to the sink in the bathroom.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks to cattylizzie for the beta and all of you for reading.

II

A third body found two days latter meant they were working a serial killer case. Abby didn't feel that she could abandon her team during such a case, nor did she think it fair to the lab tech that was temporarily taking over for her to thrust him into the middle of it. When Jason called her after three week to let her know that the house had been completely gutted and was ready for construction to begun, she had to put him off. It was another week before the case broke. She called the airline for a flight the moment Tony assured her that their suspect was the killer, and had Gibbs sign her leave of absence forms as soon as he was out of interrogation. She planned on being gone for six weeks.

The shear amount of paperwork that had to be filed meant most of the team was busy the next morning when she was scheduled to leave. Ducky volunteered to drive her to the airport. He arrived at her home an hour early with a two orders of pancakes from the cafe down the street. In his other hand he carried a box of filtered air masks.

"They are designed for painters," he explained as he handed them to her. "They should do nicely in keeping out those biological particles that troubled you the last time."

"Thank you, Ducky." She kissed him on the cheek before opening up her suitcase to fit in the masks.

II

It was strange when she arrived at the New Orleans airport. She and the handful of people that disembarked from the plane walked down hallways that were nearly deserted. None of the shops or restaurants were open, and only a handful of gates were lit for arrivals. Abby was relieved when she made her way past security and found Jason waiting for her.

"Hey, sis." Jason gave her a hug and snatched her carry on bag from her, slinging it over his shoulder.

"I am perfectly capable of carrying my own bag," she argued lightly, but she didn't attempt to take it back. "How are you, Jace?"

"Hungry." He grinned at her, and she shook her head. Some things never changed, and her brother's bottomless appetite was one of them.

"Let's stop somewhere on the way home," she said, tensing slightly at the word i home /i . "I could go for some gumbo and a piece of crawfish bread. No one in DC makes a good gumbo."

"Of course they don't. You can't expect Northerners to know Cajun, now can you?" He deliberately thickened his light accent into a rich southern drawl. Abby punched him in the arm, laughed, and dragged him toward the baggage claim.

II

"Used as a getaway car? Seriously?" Jason laughed and sighed at the same time. "Poor DiNozzo."

"I'm surprised he didn't have a funeral for the car after it crashed." Abby, needing to fill the silence during the drive from the restaurant to her parent's house regaled her brother with the more amusing work stories.

"A classic like that? A guy's got to grieve." He thought of his Harley, which he had fortunately been able to save from the storm, and empathized with the man.

"Why am I not surprised? One of these days I'm going to have to introduce the two of you. I just hope Gibbs is around when I do; he'll slap some sense into the both of you."

"Now that's just mean."

When they drove around the corner, Abby lost the glib retort she had been about to give her brother. The street that she had left a month ago didn't look any better. If possible it looked even more dilapidated. With no one tending to the yards weeds had grown tall and thick. Most of the houses were still abandoned, and the few, like her parents', that showed signs of life all had plain white trailers parked in front of them.

"What are those?" Abby asked, wrinkling her nose. The trailers were basically large white boxes with small windows and rickety metal steps leading up to the door.

"That is what we now call home," he replied irritably. "It's a FEMA trailer. I'd tell you what FEMA stands for, but when I told mom she threatened to superglue my fingers together." It had been a common threat in their childhood, their deaf parents' version of washing their mouths out with soap.

"All of you are living in that thing?" The trailer was smaller then her ballistics lab. For some reason it had never occurred to her, the question of where everyone would live while the house was being worked on.

"You think that's bad, wait until you see the bathroom. Mom calls the shower/bath tub a tuna can."

"How is she?" Abby asked reluctantly. She had put off asking for as long as possible, but as they pulled up in front of the house she needed to know.

"She's okay. A little quieter then usual, but that's to be expected, right?" Abby only nodded. Jason led her up the steps and knocked on the door.

"Dad still doesn't trust you with a key?" Abby teased. Her brother shook his head.

"Oh, I have a key. If I wanted to I could use it on a couple thousand trailers, they all have the same locks. And trust me, that's a well-known fact, one that criminals and police alike take advantage of." When their father opened the door, Jason pointed out the haphazard mix of metal with a padlock dangling from it. "We've rigged up a lock of our own. It's not pretty but it works."

Less then a minute after walking into the dimly lit trailer, Abby knew that Jason was lying, to her or to himself. Their mother was not fine. She was sitting on the couch in the corner of the space, watching the muted television. In a single glance Abby could tell that she had lost weight, but the thing that troubled her the most was how completely still Gloria was. The mother she has always known was constantly in movement; hands that would flutter and flex even when not speaking, and eyes that searched for clues that ears couldn't give. Now her eyes were fixed on a soap opera, her hands still in her lap. Gloria has always hated soap operas.


End file.
